


Destroying Something Beautiful - Like Stained Glass

by TeddyRuxpin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Barhopping, Death of unimportant minor character, M/M, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 08:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyRuxpin/pseuds/TeddyRuxpin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Jim wants to hear someone scream for him. Sometimes Sebastian bends to his whims, sates his needs and watches his eyes sparkle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destroying Something Beautiful - Like Stained Glass

It’s easy enough to find people at bars. It’s always been easy. Nurse the drink you’ve had since you walked into the place, flash shy smiles at all the right people, and ask every single young, attractive man you see:

_Have you got a light?_

Richard Darrow, 25, says yes, lights your cigarette and his own with a flourish, and leans close. His eyes flash, and he offers to buy you a drink. You decline and move on.

The music is steadily getting louder as more and more people pour in. You blend right in to the crowd of young drunk twentysomethings, and that suits you. You’re made to blend in. Moving on, before Richard Darrow, 25, can get too upset over being rejected.

_Have you got a light?_

Jesse Wilcox, 29, says yes, but rather than light yours with the lighter, he chooses to move close, right into your space, and you light yours off the tip of his, smoke curling around the both of you, close enough that your foreheads are almost touching. He smiles as bright as a supernova, and it’s obvious he’s never tried that move before. He offers to buy you a drink. You decline and move on.

The beat rattles your very bones, and it feels almost as though your DNA is unraveling, as though your atoms will shake apart if you stay still enough to let it. So you keep moving, prowling through crowds until your cigarette burns itself out and you can try again.

_Have you got a light?_

David Arthur, 27, does not. He apologizes nervously, but he doesn’t smoke, you see. You smile warmly; slip your cigarette away, and lean close. Your eyes flash, you laugh comes easily. You offer to buy him a drink. He accepts, and you grin.

From there, it’s easy. A quiet murmur,  _we should get out of here_ , a faltering stumble,  _my place is closer_. You kiss him against a wall, tell him how lovely he is, how like an angel. He laughs, and accuses you of being drunk. You laugh, and don’t tell him just how right he is, how drunk off of what you’re about to do you really are.

You lead him in; don’t let him get his bearings. You kiss him like he matters, like he isn’t just another job. You urge him downstairs, into the room where Jim is waiting. You slap him.

He looks at you with betrayal, holding his reddening cheek with something like surprise, something like expectation. Something like he knew you were too good to be true.

You knee him in the gut, wrestle him to the ground. The way your bodies tangle is a sick mockery of the pleasant night you had led him to expect. You grin against his throat, and you know he feels it by the terrible noise he lets out, half a sob, half a scream, entirely desperate.

Handcuffs that were a weight in your pocket now keep him from fighting back, and you stand, letting your foot settle on his chest, let your voice be the only thing he focuses on. _This is what’s going to happen, David. I’m going to hurt you. Jim’s going to watch._ __

You chance a glance up at where Jim is standing. The warmth of his smile is what you live for, after all, and you aren’t disappointed. Jim is watching you like you’re the only thing that matters. Jim is interested. Jim is _yours._

The first touch of a knife against the hollow of his throat makes David sob. The second touch, cutting away his T-shirt, makes him yelp. The third, peeling away a strip of flesh and skin, makes him scream.

It’s just as Jim wanted. That night, David sings.


End file.
